


Weak In The Knees

by ghostofgatsby



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Clothed Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, Intimacy, M/M, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: “Not hanging out in public toilets today, Trotty?”“That wasn’t a regular occurrence, Smith,” Trott scoffs, “And you’re the one who stuck your dick through the hole in the wall.”“Totally worth it.”Trott and Smith hook up again, but Trott can't help but feel a little conflicted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to Birthmarks and Blowjobs that...maybe you wanted? Ah well. I wrote it anyway. Hope you like it as a sequel. I don’t know if it has that same feeling the other one did, or the same stuff that made/makes people like it. But I like it. *shrug*
> 
> cw: none that I can think of. If I need to tag something, let me know.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/11/19/weak-in-the-knees-ghostofgatsby/
> 
> add me on Discord: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/discord/

“Not hanging out in public toilets today, Trotty?”

“That wasn’t a regular occurrence, Smith,” Trott scoffs, “And _you’re_ the one who stuck your dick through the hole in the wall.”

“Totally worth it.”

Trott rolls his eyes. Smith follows behind him as they climb the stairs of Trott’s parent’s house. He’s been apartment hunting, in-between jobs at the moment, and his parents are letting him stay while they’re away on a cruise.

“Worth the money, or the blow job?” he asks.

“Both.” Smith grins. “Plus, I ran into you. All in all, not a bad night.”

Once Trott is at the top of the stairs, he leads Smith down the hallway and pushes open the door to his former childhood bedroom. He opens the window out of habit. If his room didn’t used to smell like sweat and pent-up teenage angst, it smelled like empty take out containers and musty socks. Since he moved out, it smelled like the rest of his parents’ house did, but fresh air won’t hurt. Trott guesses it will probably smell like sex in a few minutes, anyway.

Smith chuckles to himself and shuts the door behind him. “How things have changed...you used to have posters everywhere,” he remarks, reminiscing as he looks around the bare room.

“So do most teenagers. Wall to wall of faces watching you sleep.”

“Sleeping, sure. I know you stared into Orlando Bloom’s soulful gaze as you jerked off, Trott.”

“Fuck _off_.”

Smith laughs. It’s strange to see the room like this. There isn’t much sign Trott spent eighteen years of his life living here. The bedspread on the double bed is plain, boring gray. Every surface is clean, save for the desk, on which sits Trott’s laptop, headphones, and charging cords. “I remember spending a lot of nights sitting on your floor playing Smash Bros.” Smith continues, looking from the room to where Trott stands by the window.

“Yeah...the console’s in the closet somewhere, but my second controller broke a long time ago. Unfortunately,” Trott says. He adjusts the blinds to let in more light.

“That’s a fucking shame.” Smith grins. “If I didn’t want you to suck my dick I would have offered to battle you.”

Trott smirks back. “You would have lost, anyway, and then you’d be the one sucking me off.”

“First.”

“I didn’t think reciprocating was such a bad thing, Smith, but if you’re not interested...”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

Trott chuckles, and walks over to the dresser across from the bed, opening a drawer and digging around in the back. He raises an eyebrow at Smith. The other man’s standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Well? Lay on the bed already," Trott says, gesturing to it.

"So fucking bossy, Trotty, jeeze! Are your knees getting too sore from all the blowjobs you've been giving?"

"Hey, if _you_ want to kneel on the thin carpeting, be my guest. I'm not doing it."

“How would you know the carpet’s thin?” Smith teases.

“Because I was a child, who lived in this house for over a decade? Sheesh.” Trott pulls a band of condoms out of his drawer, checking the date before throwing them at Smith’s face.

Smith laughs. He wraps the condoms around his neck like a feather boa and stands beside Trott's bed with his hands on his hips.

Trott turns from his dresser to face Smith, and snorts. "You're a dork."

"We using up all of these tonight?" Smith waggles his eyebrows.

"Fuck _off._ " Trott shoves Smith back on his bed, wincing slightly as the old wooden bed frame creaks in protest. "It's mid afternoon, anyway." He runs his hands up Smith’s thighs, and Smith lifts his hips obligingly.

“Eager much?” Smith says with a smile.

“Shut up and scoot,” Trott replies, quickly undoing Smith’s fly and yanking his pants and boxers down his legs. He throws Smith’s clothes behind him as Smith toes off his socks.

Smith pulls the condoms off his neck and tears one open. He gives Trott a lewd grin and winks as he rolls it down his dick.

Trott rolls his eyes again. He kneels up on the bed, between Smith’s legs, and teasingly runs his hands up and down the other man’s hairy thighs. His thumbs press into the crook of Smith’s knees.

Smith parts his legs further. “You’re a fucking tease, Trott,” he chides. It should be embarrassing, to be this naked in broad daylight, but Trott’s nothing but familiar.

Trott leans down and laughs into Smith’s hip. “And I’m the eager one? Really?” he murmurs. He bites and kisses Smith’s inner thighs, leaving behind blotchy pink marks in his wake.

Smith lets out a pleased sigh. “Fuckin' love it when you do that.”

Trott’s fingers dance along Smith’s skin. He caresses the line of his hips as his mouth works its way slowly upward. His eyes dart from Smith’s face to his stirring arousal. Smith’s hair is wild against the bedspread, and his lips are parted just slightly as he watches Trott.

“Fuck, _Trott-_ ” Smith lifts his hips in impatience, and Trott pushes him back down.

“Keep still,” he murmurs into Smith’s hip, kissing and nipping slowly. “And you’ll get what you want.”

“ _Fuck_ ...” Smith sighs. “Come on.”

“Patience.”

Trott takes his time leaving a pretty set of bruises on Smith’s inner thighs, and finally kisses his way to Smith’s cock. He licks up the length, feeling Smith getting more turned on as he takes the head into his mouth. He starts to bob his head and suck.

Smith groans. “Fuck, can I-” He strokes a hand through Trott’s hair and down the nape of his neck, almost lovingly. Trott looks up at Smith with his mouth around his dick, and a moan falls from the other man's lips. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches him.

“Shit, Trott,” Smith murmurs, breath hitching as Trott licks along the underside. He has to crane his head up to watch.

Trott can see the flush start to spread across Smith’s skin. He hadn’t gotten to see this when Smith was on the other side of a glory hole, but he remembers the sight before him well. Smith, laying back on his bed, flushed and panting. Turned on. Moaning Trott’s name.

Trott works his mouth faster, and Smith moans again. His hips twitch, and Trott’s hands press harder on his upper thighs, holding him down. Smith traces the vertebrae of Trott’s spine with one hand while his other fists the sheets. Trott can’t help but smirk when Smith’s head tips back and he groans loudly.

After Smith comes, Trott pulls off. He moves his hands away, absent-mindedly stroking his thumb over the birthmark near Smith’s crotch. Trott has half a mind to kiss it, but that'd be weirdly affectionate, wouldn’t it? He sits back on his haunches and looks up at Smith, who's panting, flushed, looking back at him like...

Trott turns away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He smooths the surface of his comforter without saying anything. Smith eventually sighs, removes and ties off the condom with a wince of disgust, and gets up.

Trott listens to him putt around in the bathroom across the hall and lays back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Smith redresses and flops down beside him a minute or so later.

They say nothing for a few moments.

Five years, and yet it feels like there'd been no time at all between them. There wasn’t uncomfortableness in the fact that they hadn’t spoken since. It didn’t feel any different laying next to each other.

Smith's sudden bark of laughter brings Trott out of his ruminating.

"What?" He looks over at him to find Smith's staring back already, hair fanned out wildly against the gray comforter.

"I was just thinking to myself about the last time I was here, we were doing this same thing," Smith says with a half-smile that doesn't seem to meet his eyes. "And you said, 'we should probably stop doing this.' Now look who's talking."

Trott narrows his eyes. "We were both going back to college. This thing between us was just fucking around, we knew that when we started."

Smith nods and looks up at the ceiling himself. "You said that back then, too," he murmurs with a strangely wistful expression on his face.

"And you bet that I couldn't make you come in under two minutes." Trott counters to shift the mood.

Smith grins. "Fuck, that's right. You'll have to retest that theory next time."

Trott chuckles and looks back towards the ceiling with a wry smile. "I guess so. Though I don't think my ability to make you come your brains out has been impeded by the years."

"True." Smith looks over at him, flashing him a brilliant smile. He rakes his eyes down Trott's body and back up, while rolling over onto his side. "You want me to return the favor?" he asks, propping up his head on his arm.

"Go on then, mate. If you're sure you're still as good as you say." Trott smirks.

Smith rolls closer to him, snagging another condom off the bedspread. Trott pushes his head down, and Smith starts to scoot down the bed.

Smith pushes up Trott’s shirt, pressing two quick kisses to his stomach and his hips before Trott can protest, and then he's unzipping the fly of his jeans.

Smith sinks to the floor. His arms wrap around Trott's thighs to pull him closer as he mouths the rising bulge in his boxer briefs.

Trott sits up on his elbows. He tosses his hair out of his eyes to watch Smith's tongue lave across the fabric, licking in broad strokes.

Trott lets out a quiet hum as Smith noses the open fly. His hand reaches in to take Trott's dick from its confines, and rolls the condom on.

"Fuck, Smith..." Trott sighs.

Smith’s tongue is wet and hot as it laps the head of his cock. His lips tease over the head before his mouth sinks down.

Trott lays back and lets Smith guide his legs over his shoulders. _Just this once_ , he tells himself, even though in the back of his mind he knows he's said that before. His ankles cross over Smith's upper back. He threads his fingers through Smith's hair, feeling the softness and the texture. He tightens his grip a little and curses at the feeling of Smith’s resultant moan.

Smith’s mouth bobs up and down. The warm pressure of his lips and tongue makes Trott’s toes curl.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Trott curses softly, coming as Smith swallows around him. He closes his eyes while Smith pulls off and disposes of the condom, basking in the afterglow as he gets his breath back.

The bed dips again when Smith lays down beside him.

Fingers brush Trott’s cheek, and Trott flinches and opens his eyes.

“Sorry.” Smith pulls back a little sheepishly. “Sorry...”

Trott lets out a breath through his teeth. “Wash your fuckin’ hands, mate. Yuck.” He says to dissolve the tension.

“I did already. You didn’t wash yours, you filthy bugger!” Smith says through his teeth.

“Fuck off.” Trott pushes himself up off the bed.

“Just did a few minutes ago, mate.”

Trott flips Smith off over his shoulder and escapes to the bathroom. After cleaning up, he leans over the sink for a moment and sighs.

What is this? What was this between them? Because to Trott, Smith’s little shows of physical affection didn’t feel like they did before. This is just fucking around, like it had been. So why does he feel weird about it now?

Trott groans quietly to himself, and stands up again. Better not keep Smith waiting, wondering if something was wrong. He’ll have a weird intimacy crisis later.

Smith is still laying on the bed, idly scratching at his beard when Trott walks back in.

Trott flops down beside him with a heavy sigh. “Not bad for round two,” he comments.

Smith laughs. “Yeah. Not bad at all.” He yawns mid-sentence. “Nap time, now, mate.”

Trott snorts. “You better not drool on my pillows.”

“I won’t.” Smith promptly rolls over and snuggles up to Trott, laying his face on Trott’s chest.

“Smith!” Trott protests, “Get off! I’m not a pillow!” He squirms, but Smith doesn’t move.

“Night, mate,” Smith says, smiling. His arms are loose enough that Trott could get out of them if he tried harder. But Smith’s arms are warm, and this way he can run his fingers through Smith’s hair...

Smith sighs and nuzzles his face into Trott’s chest a little. Trott wonders if Smith can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage right now. He wonders if this is too weird, to go back to doing what they did before. Even if it felt the same, they weren’t the same people. And truth was, Trott had more reasons than just college for why he ended things with Smith.

Not that it was ever a _thing_ , it was just...fucking around.

 _Right..._ Trott sarcastically thinks to himself. _Because cuddling and napping is what all fuck buddies do after giving mutual blowjobs..._

Trott sighs up at the ceiling and closes his eyes.


End file.
